Red: A poem by Geethanjali Dilip

Infrared rays permeating within the soul as angst,

In a mute scream whose echoes go unheard under molesting gangs,

Rad alert of mob fury answering corrupt fangs,

As bloody teardrops drip down Mother justice, her resignation hangs,

The burning red of poverty that stokes the gut,

Burning to cinders in famished stomachs of children’s huts,

As selfish smoke rings spiral mocking at breath in a cigarette butt,

Red is the pigment of monstrous apathy in a demonic rut.

Love bites that leave scars that don’t hurt anymore,

Heart chambers breeding memories of yore,

Stains in patterns on palms as henna their color pour,

Red soil that line Kolams for auspices outside the door.

Red is a taste that looks for answers,

Red the rose petals that wither from Valentines leaving fragrant banters,

Red is the line of the earth and sky in love’s whispers,

Red soaks the tongue as betel leaves the alerts colors,

Red is death that spreads to end all the pain in terminal cancers.